


Saddle up, buttercup

by fakesheep-luna (octavaluna)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Steve, Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Tony, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mechanic Tony, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Humor, Spanking, Steve is kind of a pain slut, Sub Steve, Tattoos and Piercings, Tony has a criminal record, Top Tony, basically just sex & no plot, inappropriate use of fruit, independent chapters with no update schedule, mentions of human experimentation, mentions of underage non-con and dub-con sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/pseuds/fakesheep-luna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/><br/><i>"Are you really a mechanic or have I accidentally walked into a porno?"</i><br/> </p><p>As far as first meetings go, theirs is pretty damn awesome. Steve is a kinky slut, Tony may be more than a little bit of a sadist and a good fuck is a perfectly fine form of payment for emergency car repairs. </p><p>And that should be the end of it, but then again, Steve turned himself into a human guinea pig once just for the sake of getting the fuck away from his hometown. The memory of Tony's hands on his ass is more than enough to make him ignore all the offhanded mentions of the man's criminal record and focus on new and creative ways to wreck that old pile of junk that is supposed to be his car. </p><p>The sex is worth it. The sex is worth <i>everything. </i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was supposed to be PWP, all the porn - zero plot.  
> Well, guess what? Plot just kinda happened. Don't worry, I'm still gonna pour all my kinkiest fantasies in here. Expect a lot of rough sex, toys and pain-play. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
>  
> 
> ***  
> Just for the record; Steve still has his "Captain America" body, just maybe not as bulky and definitively not superhuman.  
> This story also works better if you imagine comic!Tony instead of MCU Tony, but it's more of a personal preference than any explicit guideline.

_"Are you really a mechanic or have I accidentally walked into a porno?"_

 

Okay, so maybe Steve should learn how to keep his mouth shut. It's his fault after all that his car gave up on him at six in the morning on a Sunday in the middle of a deserted highway.

Deserted except for one passing car, apparently. So now Steve has a strange guy digging into the insides of his geriatric Chevy.

The man claims to be a professional and the tool-kit that he produced out of his own car, if not the muscles of his bare arms, certainly scream so. But c'mon, this is _ridiculous_! Gorgeous, tanned brunet with the facial hair of every hot movie villain ever, covered in tattoos and a waist-hugging, black tank top that probably was designed to cause major brain damage? Really? So unfair.

Steve is self-aware enough to admit that he's always had a thing for the bad-boy type, and right now he doesn't care if that guy has no fucking idea about engines and this is all some sort of elaborated hidden-camera home video. Hell, that idea only whips him up more!

 

So, where were we? Oh, right...

 

"Are you really a mechanic or have I accidentally walked into a porno?"

 

The man looks up at him from under the hood and smirks, honey brown eyes sparkling with mirth.

"In any case you would _drive_ into one, and what? I can't be a real mechanic and be able to cram it up that perky ass of yours at the same time?"

 

Well, that... was far more forward than what he expected. Completely taken aback, Steve licks his suddenly dry lips and has to dig the heel of his palm onto his crotch to relieve some tension from his growing interest. Or he may be showing off, which is a possibility too.

 

The guy checks him out again, not even bothering with false discretion, dragging his gaze over Steve's entire body languidly. He certainly likes what he sees if the way his breathing speeds up is anything to go by.

 

However, before Steve can come up with any sexy line he turns back towards the car and dives into its insides again.

"Why don't we spare ourselves this dance, doll?" He says, voice echoing against the metal "I can patch this disaster of a machine up, with what basic tools I have on me, long enough for it to get you home if you don't ask too much of it. You can repay me with sex."

 

"I feel like a very low maintenance whore." Steve grins, already opening the passenger door and retrieving a bottle of lube and a condom from the glove box. "You didn't even call it 'special currency'"

 

The man chuckles "Don't be ridiculous! Do you know how much this would have cost you in my shop? You are a very reasonably-priced whore."

 

At that Steve lets out an inelegant snort and pats the guy's ass to get his attention. He cranes his neck, fixing Steve with an amused glare and Steve waves the objects in his hand. "Your call."

 

The other man -and Steve really should have asked him for his name earlier- holds up his filthy, greasy hands.

"Why don't you prepare yourself while I finish this up, doll? Loose and loud."

 

Steve bites into his lower lip to suppress a grin and reaches for his belt. It's early enough that the highway is empty and the sun is still just poking from behind the horizon. He shivers as the cool breeze caresses the bare skin of his ass and bends over the car with his jeans and panties dangling around his knees.

The mechanic resurfaces to pick up some quirky tool from his box and grins at the picture, wiping his hand on his pants and giving Steve's cheeks a hearty slap.

 

Steve moans, arching into the blow because _fuck,_ _fuck, fuck_ _yes_ and the guy laughs. "Like that, uh?"

 

"Very much like that." Steve says and is actually disappointed when instead of smacking him again the man goes back to work. However, the spark of promise in his eyes lights up a fire under Steve's skin.

 

Steve repositions himself, bracing one of his forearms on the roof and guiding his other hand between his cheeks. He sighs as two lubed fingers breach his entrance. They burn a little but Steve likes it that way. He's usually so dildo-happy they would have slid in without any resistance, but it's been over three days so he takes his time enjoying them, soft gasps and whimpers escaping his lips absent mindedly, before going in for three. He twists them just the right way and moans as they rub against his prostate. The mechanic swears breathlessly a few feet away so he grins and does it again, and again, basking in the liberty to make all the noise that he wants to without noisy neighbours banging on the walls.

 

"Okay, I'm done." The other man _finally_ says, slamming the hood shut and leaning his hips on it. "C'm-ere." and Steve obeys, pulls his fingers out of his hole and sinks on his knees in front of him, tugging on his pants and underwear.

 

The man grunts as his cock slips free and Steve swallows the excess of saliva pooling in his mouth. Maybe he should have prepared himself more thoroughly. (Or not, better this way.) He gives a tentative little lick to the tip and nuzzles the mat of dark curls over the base, looking up from under thick eyelashes.

That handsome brunet flashes him a thousand volts smile "C'mon, you tease, get on it. I fixed your shitty car, time to sign the check." He rolls his hips, making his cock slide against Steve's cheek, so Steve cocks his head, giving the shaft a small kiss. He pulls the condom out and tears the package with his teeth, all the way reveling in the feel of the hand combing through his hair. He knows its going to get dirty and greasy but the part of his brain that usually cares about that sort of thing is currently on vacation.

As he rolls the condom on the man throws his head back with a deep groan and tightens his fingers, tugging at the blond strands until Steve whimpers. By now he is so incredibly turned on his thighs are trembling and he wobbles a little as the pull intensifies so much that he has to get up to follow its lead and is suddenly being bent face-down over the hood.

 

"Sweet lord Darwin what a piece of art..." The mechanic muses as he brings both of hands down to trace the shape of Steve's ass. He is gentle and reverent at first but not so much as he cups the cheeks, digging his fingertips hard into the flesh and pulling them apart to see better Steve's ready, quivering hole.

 

"Hurry up, please." Steve pleads. The metallic surface of the car is cool against his skin, overheated with arousal, and so is the light, summer breeze on his thighs. However, the flesh of his rear is aching and burning so good from the clasp of strong hands on it... Steve is already leaking a pool from where his cock is trapped between the car and his belly and he feels starved, hungry for a nice fuck. His mouth is running on instinct at this point.

"Jesus! c'mon, c'mon, fill me up. I'm so ready, so open, just shove it in, c'mon sexy feed me that beautiful cock of yours..." He grasps on the juncture between the windshield glass and the hood and arches his back, ass in the air, presenting himself for the taking.

 

"Oh, you are such a needy slut." The man laughs and whacks him again.

 

Steve yelps and bites into his lower lip, tightening his legs and buttocks. He's never been able to resist in front of a little punishment.

"You are catching on..." Another couple of delicious slaps and then Steve feels as the tip of the man's dick nudges his hole, pressing on it, pushing through the ring of muscle with intent. He wills his body to relax, to accept and welcome it but it's so hard because... _oh.. Yes_!

"Fuck, you are thick..." he manages and the man chuckles breathlessly and grips his hips tighter, driving forward.

 

"Can't take it, doll?" But he doesn't stop and the laugh from Steve's mouth sounds more like a sob. This is... this is it. He's missed this so much. And it's so hot, filling him up so tightly.

 

"Oh fuck yeah! all the way in, c'mon I won't break- _mmm..._ yes so nice and wide-" Steve is babbling nonsense and he doesn't even care.

 

The man withdraws until only the top is still in and then slams in again, hard and fast and Steve's hole is not fully used to the stretch yet, he howls and clings to the metal under his fingers, the sensation that floods him is between pain than pleasure but the line is fading fast and Steve loves it all the same, moaning and trying to push back, except that the man's grip holds him in place and his cock is achingly hard under his belly.

Steve's already close, overwhelmed with sensation...

 

"Fuck... your ass was made for taking cock." The man grunts, fixing a steady rhythm, his balls slamming against Steve's cheeks as he buries himself so deep Steve's voice breaks in midst of his moans every damn time. "Such a sweet, tight hole... you want more, babe?"

 

"Yes, please, please harder..."

 

As he is about to keep begging a car passes them by, the rush of wind and the roar of the engine accompanied by a streak of mildly vanilla swearing. Just the thought of some random family dude seeing him on his belly over the car, being fucked within an inch of his life simultaneously arouses Steve and amuses him.

 

The other man laughs and Steve feels how his frame shakes with it through the points where their bodies are connected. He takes the opportunity of a loosened grip to roll his hips "I believe I was being offered more?"

 

One of the hands on his hips leaves its place and instead is fisted in his hair again. Steve groans in approval and the mechanic chuckles as he leans forward, bracing his weight on his elbow and dragging his torso against Steve's back.

 

"Greedy whore." He breathes out into the back of Steve's neck and picks up the pace, fucking into Steve with short, deep strokes.

The new angle is perfect, _so perfect_ , and Steve true to god wails as the man's dick hits his prostate over and over again. He is seconds away from the finishing line, balls drawn high, the pit of his belly tight and burning like its on fire...

 

"Come now, doll." his partner grunts into his skin and tugs sharply on his hair.

 

Steve comes, moaning and clenching his insides, his whole body shaking with the force of his release. After that the man lasts a dozen strokes at most before throwing his head back, clenching onto Steve and coming too.

 

 

He collapses on top of Steve and chuckles as another car rushes by, honking at them. Steve himself barely has the presence of mind to muster a smile. God... he haven't been fucked like that in years and never without having to go through the trouble of convincing his partners first that it was allright to rough him up a bit, that he didn't feel pain and pleasure like the rest.

 

The body over his twitches and gets up, leaving him more space to breath.

 

"Damn, what a beauty..." The man says and fumbles with his pants. He waves a phone in front of Steve's face, which is resting sideways on the hood. "Do you mind?"

 

"Go ahead." Steve mumbles and arches his back as much as his exhaustion lets him, displaying his backside. The sound of the camera shooting makes him smile and he finally rolls around, sitting on the hood clumsily, noting how sore he is and how much more he's gonna be in a while.

The man shows him the photo and it's indeed a beauty. Steve's ass, red and bruised, dirty with glistering smears of lube and dark patches of grease... and sweet lord Jesus does his hole look _used_!

 

He is aware of the whimper that escapes his throat and bites into his lower lip. Even his spent cock twitches at the sight. The man laughs, throwing his head back. He has a nice, rich laugh, Steve notes absently, and flashes a wide grin.

"Send it to yourself if you like it so much." He steps away and pulls opens the passenger door of his car, retrieving a packet of paper towels to wipe his hands and exchanging it for his own phone back.

 

"I'm saving you as 'Kinky highway bitch'-" Steve snorts as he cleans himself up and rolls his eyes. He is way past the point where strict, catholic upbringing would have made him feel guilty for liking the name calling. "-and sending you the address of my shop. I patched this disaster of yours as well as I could but you need to either change several parts or ditch it already."

 

"I can't afford a new car and I'd rather not owe the bank a shit-ton in interests."

 

"Can you even get a loan?"

 

Steve sighs "I'm twenty-six." and the guy blinks at him in surprise. "Wow, baby face. I wouldn't pin you past eighteen."

 

"Didn't stop you from fucking me."

 

It's the guy's turn to roll his eyes. "Please... I was already having sex at thirteen." at Steve's curious look he shrugs "Juvie. In any case if you are old enough to drive you are old enough to have casual sex." He pats Steve on the shoulder and collects his toolbox, walking back to his own car. "Swing by the shop when you feel up to it. Maybe we can negotiate a special discount for you."

And just like that, with a flick of his wrist and a sweet purr of engines he is gone.

 

Steve leans back against the windshield, smiling lazily. He should probably make himself presentable and go back to the road. And he will, once his thighs stop quivering and the lower half of his body no longer feels lax and liquid.

 

The sun's already up and two more cars pass Steve by but neither of them stops or even slows down, probably presuming that he is taking a break or just not giving a fuck.

 

Finally, he stretches and climbs off the car and into the driver's seat. His phone is resting on the passenger seat and he scoops it up, grinning at the notification for two new messages. What he should save the man as? After weighing his options for a couple of minutes he finally he settles for 'Hot goatee mechanic' which is kind of perfect and sticks the keys into the ignition.

 

His car behaves itself like never before.

 

Steve hopes it doesn't last long.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, how was that?
> 
> By the way, the title has nothing to do with The Princess Bride, in case you were wondering.  
> According to The Euphemism Dictionary "to saddle up" means to take it up the ass and "buttercup" is another name for gay men.


	2. Cherry pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Here we are again with a new chapter for this story. For those wondering about publication dates - I basically write it when I'm horny, which I'm most of the time. Ah! youth hormones, such a delight.  
>   
>  _ **HEALTH AND SAFETY NOTE:** Steve uses scented cinnamon essential oil with his cleansing solution. (aka: enema) It's not a sex thing, it's a health  & wellbeing thing (very popular with yoga enthusiasts.) Immune system support yada yada, emotional balance yada yada, antibacterial and antimicrobial properties yada yada.. In summary - Steve's ass is cleaner than your dining table so nothing terribly unsanitary happens in this chapter. _  
> 

Tony likes to think he is the kind of guy that got his life sorted a while ago. Given, he had a lot to sort out but organization has always been one of his strong points. So when Darcy says a guy named Steve Rogers is in the second garage to see him about an old Chevy he combs mentally trough his contacts list and comes up blank. Steve... Rogers?

"Did someone from Shield send him?" He asks her, pulling up his boots from where they ended up under the couch.

"I can't see his tattoo anywhere, and he is not wearing that many clothes, which is nice. The guy looks like sex personified. God those pecs..."

"Focus Darce. Is he a random client or did he ask specifically for me?"

"Well, he didn't know your name or nickname but how many 'hot goatee guys' do we have on our payroll?... Wait a moment... yeah... okay" Tony can hear some muttering on the other end of the line and adjusts his phone between his ear and shoulder. "He says that you met on the highway last week. He is here to take you up on your special offer."

Recognition sparks in Tony's mind... and other places, despite the fact that he finished jerking off ten minutes ago. Well, well, well... he grins. "Darcy, take the rest of the day off, will you?"

He can practically _hear_ her sleazy grin.

 

***

 

"You should have dropped me a text."

The highway guy, Steve apparently, is sitting on the hood of his car and Tony's dick throbs in his jeans just from the reminder of the fun it had the last time that hood and that man were involved.

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise." Steve grins.

"I don't like surprises." Tony comes to a stop in front of the guy and sticks out his hand. "I guess my assistant already introduced me but still. Tony Stark. Now what did you do to that old lady?"

"I didn't do anything" he shrugs, shaking his hand and isn't it just precious, that he thinks he can fool Tony, who can see what's wrong and c'mon... was that really necessary? "Steve-"

"Rogers, yeah, I gathered that much. Did you take a crowbar on that light or what?"

"A bat, and it wasn't me. I've got some very enthusiastic neighbor kids whose parents do not approve of my way of life."

"Way of life, huh?" Tony decides to bite the bullet and Steve grins widely, hips leaning on the side of the car, back arched in a curve that is all seduction and innuendo.

"I like men that can make me scream." He says in a low rumble of a voice, purring even, silky. "I like to be hurt and humiliated and ordered around. I like to be forced on my knees and elbows, reduced to a begging, sobbing plaything. I like to be stuffed through all ends and to put things in my ass that might not strictly belong in there. I like my mouth raw and my hole wet. And I like to be seen and heard like that. I like them to be able to see the marks on my skin for days, and they don't appreciate that."

Tony inhales sharply, shoulders tensing as he grips tighter the metal underneath his fingers.

"You better not be lying to me."

"I'm almost disappointed I'll never find out what my punishment for that hypothetical lie would have been." he grins, all fake innocence and sunshine and Tony suddenly realizes that he is _famished._

"Lucky for you there are worse ways of disappointing me that lying to me. Unfair treatment of a car, for example, even one as old and rusty as this one-

"Now, I told you that wasn't me!"

"We'll see if you can stick to that version." He nods towards the door "Down the corridor, first door to your left. I'll be in a minute."

He watches Steve go and then turns to the broken light, examining it absentmindedly.

Steve Rogers is... Oh, Tony can already tell that he is going to have his hands full with that one. He stays in the garage a good part of ten minutes, leaving time for the expectation to build up and for his arousal turn from a raging fire of desire into a tight and patient hum under his skin.

He pulls out his phone to take another glance at the photo from the first time they met, as if he hadn't jerked off to it half a dozen times already. Such a sweet, full pair of cupcakes... Tony is going to absolutely wreck them.

When he walks into his living room he isn't surprised at all to find Steve utterly naked, save for a pair of silky, blue panties and a sweet smile. He really has a gorgeous body. Broad shoulders, muscled stomach, narrow waist and firm hips, strong thighs, half hard cock tenting the fabric and rosy nipples. Beautiful in that classic, wholesome way that never goes out of style.

Tony fishes a bottle of lube out of a drawer and throws it on the couch.

"Hands on the wall" He instructs in passing and dives into the kitchen. There's a bowl of cherries in the fridge, left probably by Darcy. He takes it out and pops one into his mouth. It's sweet, cold and juicy. Perfect.

Back in the living room Steve is perfectly positioned with his hands on the... well, technically that's a part of the wall.

"Do you have a thing for mirrors or is this just a feisty streak?" Tony chuckles before spitting out the bean and taking another cherry, rolling it on his tongue. He sets the bowl down and runs his hands over Steve's sides.

"You are going to have to find out." the other man says, letting Tony cup his chin and tilt his head, accepting the lips and the fruit passed through them. He smiles at Tony and bites down on it. "Those are good."

"They are about to get better." Tony promises. He pulls back a couple of steps and slips into his commanding voice. "Palms on the mirror, arms straight and feet in line with your shoulders."

Steve obeys happily and Tony closes on him again, hands on his hips, pulling down the panties until they are stretching under those perfect buttocks. He cups them and squeezes lightly, earning an approving noise from Steve.

"I won't be asking you every five minutes, but bear in mind that you can use the stop-light system if you need it."

Steve nods and leans into his touch. Tony presses a kiss to the back of his neck, where the hairs of his nape are short and soft, then bites down and feels the shiver that shatters the beautiful body under his fingers.

He shifts his hand and presses his dry thumb to Steve's opening, which surrenders under it easily, accepting Tony's digit into the slick heat.

"You are awfully prepared."

"Just- _mmm_..." Steve's body arches as Tony's other hand kneads his ass. "Cleansed myself... cinnamon essential oil, do you like it?"

"Well done, dollface. We can even bake a pie now. " He grins as Steve throws him an inquisitive look through their reflection. They look good together, Steve is blond and fair of skin while Tony is darker in every way. They are like a dance of contrasts, opposite in a way that compliments each other.

Tony takes one cherry from the bowl and makes sure it's a firm one. He brings it to his mouth but doesn't bit down on it, just holds it between his teeth carefully and falls on his knees behind Steve, nuzzling at his crack, digging in with his fingers and parting the cheeks further.

He grins and buries his face in the middle, rolls the fruit in his mouth as his tongue probes at the outside of Steve's hole. He begins to push the cherry against it, slowly but with insistence and feels Steve trying to relax under his mouth. However, the cherry is cold from the fridge and the contrast with the heat inside his body is maddening. Steve's hole flutters and he moans as his body swallows the fruit. He smells of cinnamon and arousal.

"Touch yourself." Tony repeats the procedure tree more times as he licks and caresses Steve's sweet, obedient opening in between, tongue fucking him leisurely until the poor guy is panting and moaning under him, hand working fast and thighs trembling every time Tony pushes a cherry through him or slips his tongue in deep, teasing his pleasure.

"God... your beard-" He cries out, come spluttering on the surface of the mirror and Tony has to close his eyes and inhale four times to repress the urge to throw Steve on the floor and take him like a bitch in heat. He has other plans for that peachy ass today.

Tony gets up, turning Steve in his arms and kissing him thoughtfully. It occurs to him that this is technically the first time they kiss and he makes a mental note about how velvety Steve's tongue is. He slides his hand down the planes of that impossible chest and abs, dips a finger in his navel and gets a hold of his softening cock. Steve moans loudly and presses into his body, his eyes like fox fire, melting heat and oceans of desire. They aren't pliant like the rest of his body is, but full of challenge and Tony smirks over his lips, stepping backwards and tugging at the cock in his hand. Steve steps after him and lets himself be lead until Tony flops in the middle of the couch.

"Lie over my lap, cock between my thighs" He instructs and Steve nods, biting his lover lip and positioning himself, whimpering at the feel of his bare flesh against Tony's jeans.

Tony's own arousal aches in his pants but he just palms it a bit, to relieve the tension. There will be time to indulge it later, for now that perky, full backside is lying in front of him, round and firm and with the slightest reddening in the lower part due to beard burn. Tony kneads it with his fingers and smacks it playfully.

Steve moans and arches upwards in offering.

"More." He orders rather than pleads and Tony's hand is already itching with impatience.

"Now, I don't think you are in any position to make demands here. After the way you treated that poor, elderly car of yours and then went and had the gait to lie to me."

"Not a lie." Steve makes a poor show of defending himself.

"Oh, and you continue to lie your tongue off. Now, until you are ready to confess..." He takes a swing and brings his palm down in a practiced manner. The slap resonates through the room and Steve's buttocks spasm as he yelps and then groans, relaxing again and grinding down against Tony's legs. "Fuck yes..."

Tony chuckles and strikes again, and then again and again, holding back just barely, just enough to make it last. The motion not unlike bringing down a hammer on a nail and Steve writhes on his lap, moaning and grunting as his skin flourishes in crimson. _"Fuck... so good... I love your hand, do it harder, please... just like that, just-_ Ah _!"_

After Tony counts ten spanks he stops and caresses the tender flesh with the outer side of his hand. It's burning and responsive under his touch, twitching eagerly. He spots the lube and unscrews it, coating his fingers lightly. Steve still has his panties stretched over his thighs but they rolled up due to his jerking. Tony pushes them back down and presses two fingers to Steve's hole. They slip inside easily, the muscle loose from the previous ministrations of Tony's tongue and the spanking.

The first cherry is right there and Tony curls his fingers around it, pulling out. It escapes and he tries again, getting a better hold this time and forcing it out, stretching the wet ring of muscles around it as well as his fingers and Steve whines and squirms over his lap.

"Be still" He chastises and cups the cherry as it slips out. It's warm and smells of cinnamon and well... itself. "And our cherry pie is out of the oven" He sing-songs and Steve laughs, a little breathlessly.

"Open up, doll." he rolls the cherry over the side of Steve's face towards his mouth and grins at the pink tongue that darts out to accept it, caressing his fingers briefly. "You are a dork" Steve says, voice rough and amused before he bites down on it and Tony cards his fingers through that soft, blond hair. "Good boy. Now, what did you do to your car?"

Steve rolls his eyes, spitting out the bean. "Left it at the mercy of my bratty neighbors."

"Not the answer I was expecting." Tony says, even thought it totally was.

He gets a hold of the panties, hooking two fingers at either side of the lining and yanks them up. Steve complains as the fabric digs between his cheeks and grinds harshly against his hole. The waistband catches on his balls and when Tony tugs further up Steve lifts his hips a fraction, whimpering.

"I said be still!" Tony warns him and whacks that beautiful ass. It quivers and tenses under his fingers so he strikes again, the strongest blow until then and Steve moans.

"Fuck yes! Like that!"

"I don't see you repenting much." Tony grins, hitting him again, and then again as Steve writhes indecisive between pushing down or up, but Tony holds him by the panties, lifting his hips and bringing his palm down without restrains. Steve cries out, grabbing the nearest cushion and holding onto it tightly. His thighs are trembling and he is half hard again.

This time Tony thrusts three fingers into him, playing with the cherries inside longer, twisting them and rubbing inside but avoiding the prostate after he finds it for the first time, teasing. Steve's hole quivers around his fingers and he pleads so wantonly Tony has to think of roadkill and Barty the old, prison guard to avoid coming in his pants. It's surprisingly effective and he breathes out a sigh of relief.

When he pulls two cherries out this time he offers one to Steve, who tries to suck on his fingers, and bites on the other.

Tony pops his knuckles and grins at Steve's nape, damp with sweat. "Still don't want to confess?"

"You... you are proving a very bad incentive."

Just what he needed to hear. He keeps striking even as Steve's moans and whimpers dissolve into wet cries of pain. By the time he delivered a dozen blows and stops his hand and a good part of his whole arm aches with exertion and Steve is sobbing, clinging to the pillow as tears run down his cheeks. His whole body is shaking and the abused skin of his ass and upper thighs is as red as his lower lip, where he is chewing on it. Tony fits four fingers in him with little to no resistance, the flesh around them relaxed and easy. It burns hot and the barest of touches makes Steve whimper.

When Tony pushes the last cherry out he finds it busted and the dark juice runs down over Steve's perineum and balls. It's beautiful and Tony can't resist taking out his phone and snapping a picture. He keeps the cherry for himself, he's earned it.

"Up" He orders and it takes Steve's hazed brain a whole minute to process it. He pushes himself up on quivering legs and stands in front of Tony, achingly hard and flushed from head to toe. "Please..." he whispers "Please..."

"Please what?" Tony asks, and he is almost surprised at how throaty his own voice comes out.

"Please fill me... I need... I need you to fill me up."

"Turn around then, let me see your slutty, dripping hole so I know where to stick my dick."

Steve sniffs and does as told. Fuck... he is going to feel that for a week. Tony would almost feel bad but Steve more than deserves that.

Tony reaches for his belt, absentmindedly, noting that he could have used it too. Well, maybe another time, if there is one. He lifts his hips and pushes his pants and underwear down, groaning in relief as his poor, confined cock finally springs free and strokes it a couple of times to regulate the blood flow and roll the condom on. All set.

"C'mon." he orders "Sit on your toes like a good boy and thank me for my work."

Steve obeys, crawling on the couch with his back to Tony's front, feet at both sides of his hips and with a little help from Tony's hands sinks on his cock.

And _oh God!_ He arches as he does so, mouth open in a silent cry as he turns his face, burying his nose in Tony's hair, breathing erratically.

"Yo smell like metal and oil..." He whispers under his breath and Tony smiles, he is kinda cute like this, that naughty boy...

"You smell like you should be moving." He fires back and circles his arms around Steve's middle, securing him and rolling his own hips. It's good, it's really, really good, and after a couple of strokes Steve digs his heels into the cushions and starts to move too, up and down and he is comfortably loose around Tony's cock, which is good or else he wouldn't have lasted long.

They move in sync; Steve riding his cock, faster every time, whimpering and moaning as the irritated skin of his ass brushes against Tony's when he sits down; Tony pushing up to match his rhythm. They are a world on their own, the two of them; their voices echoing in the space around them, the smell of sweat and musk heavy in the air, almost too hot, almost too much, faster and faster. Steve's thighs shake with the effort, his voice hoarse as he chants Tony's name and pleads for more, for being taken and used for Tony's pleasure. Praises to his beautiful, big dick, how good it is, how full it makes him feel.

He pleads and tugs at Tony's hair, bringing him in for a kiss and Tony obliges, half mad with passion himself as he devours Steve's mouth and reaches around to take his cock in hand, stroking and caressing in time with the raise of his hips until Steve lets go of his lips and cries out, spilling into his hand. He throws his head back and clenches what must be every muscle of his body, including the ones surrounding Tony's cock.

Steve, beautiful, radiant Steve, rides Tony through his orgasm but as soon as Tony exhales heartily collapses over him, breathing hard and deep, pliant and soft and completely blissed out.

  


"Okay, down you go." Tony says after a minute, because Steve is not a small guy and all that muscle weights a ton. He helps him to ease out and lie on his side on the couch, grabbing a pillow and snuggling comfortably into it. Tony deals with the condom and lies down too, kissing Steve's shoulder and circling his waist.

Steve grins. "Aren't you gonna ask me again what happened to my car?"

Tony blinks, he is about to ask _'what car?'_ as he remembers. "Right, yeah, car... did you break it yourself?"

Steve snorts. "Nope. I was telling the truth. A couple of kids with a bat did it."

Oh, well. That's disappointing.

"After all, you told me to swing by because of the pieces you couldn't fix the first time. I had no use for breaking it on purpose if I already had an excuse. _Duh_."

"You are being too sassy for pillow talk. It's wrong."

Steve pats the pillow under his head and grips it again. "I have a pillow, I'm talking, hence I'm doing pillow talk properly."

"Oh, really?" Tony arches one eyebrow and swipes it abruptly from under his head. "Now you don't have a pillow any more, you have to be sweet and cute or you'll fail terribly at pillow talk-"

Steve rolls him over, taking hold of the damn thing and yanking, laughing. "Give it back you selfish prick!"

They wrestle for a good while, giggling and trading insults until Steve hisses in pain and shifts his backside from where it was dragging against the fabric of the couch.

"Are you-?" Tony lets go of the pillow, all traces of humor gone.

"Yeah no, I'm okay."

"I went too far, I'm sorry."

Steve rolls his eyes, huffing in irritation. "Don't you start you too. For some reason people have a tendency to assume that I don't know how to yell _Red_."

"Even if you can, that doesn't mean you'll know when you need it. It's my responsibility to-"

"I know my limits."

"Doesn't mean that I shouldn't have been more-"

"Tony!" Steve interrupts him taping a hand over his mouth "I know my own limits, okay? But most importantly, and that's a personal story that I'm not telling you now, but long story short - I have a condition. There are periods of time when I can't feel my body for days. Nothing. my nerve endings just stop responding, sometimes for parts sometimes completely. I love being able to feel as much as possible. Pain the is fiercest of sensations, it makes me feel alive. I love the pain, I loved it when you put me over your knee. If I can still feel the sting tomorrow I'll probably be getting hard to it all day. So stop worrying. I'm a big boy and I know what I'm doing, alright?"

Tony nods. "I often forget to be careful. Nobody taught us restrain where I learned to do this."

"I'm very strong, and tougher than most. I'll make sure you know it if you go too far." He smiles and Tony can't avoid returning it.

"You are a box full of surprises."

"I thought you didn't like surprises."

"I don't. Doesn't mean I can't like the contents once they are not surprises anymore." he shrugs "I have a salve if you want it though."

"I really don't. But if it makes you feel better there's a vial of grapeseed oil in my jeans. You can help me to apply it on my backside. It's a good skin moisturizer."

"Any sentence containing your backside is guaranteed to make me feel better."

"Flatterer." Steve gins and lays face down. "Also, I've got the pillow."

"That's cheating."

"That's life."

"Whore."

"Yup. Now hush and give me my butt-rub."

 

 


	3. Art and wires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Body worship, rough oral sex and tattoos. What else could you possibly want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this took a little more time than expected but hey! Real life just goes and happens sometimes. 
> 
> Also, this chapter alone is as long the the previous two put together. I'm still trying to figure out how the hell that happened.

Steve wakes up with an agonized moan. The frost and the black dust keep plaguing his mind, digging into every last corner of it, even awake. He lies still, afraid to move, afraid of not being able to move, gasping for air. It's been long since he had to fight for air, in the bad way at least, but his mind sometimes forgets that. The dust settles on him and he is shivering, trapped in his own body, in his bed and his room, he needs air, he needs space, he doesn't move.

The wave subsides at the end, like it always does. So he drags himself up, back resting against the headboard. Three inhales, three exhales. Good, everything is fine, he is fine, he is in his apartment, alone, everything is silent.

Everything is in order.

He calms down progressively and tries his hands first, rubbing them against each other with his eyes closed, feeling the motion and the drag of skin against skin. After that he bends forward, touching the tips of his toes, trailing his fingers up to his ankles and around the curve of his calves. His fingers jerk and he has to restrain himself from cursing as his left knee doesn't register the caress. Half past the thigh his right side doesn't either and he might as well had flogged his buttocks and it would have had no effect whatsoever. He scratches at his hips and takes his dick in hand, feeling the weight of it and the smooth texture of the tender skin but not the calluses of his hand. Brilliant. His balls don't respond either and an exploratory finger in his ass confirms what he already knew. Up from there it's well past the left side of his ribs until he regains feeling but the right side is completely numb up to his neck and around his back.

It's bad this time. Extensive and probably will last a couple of days if not up to a week even. Whatever. As annoying as it might be he is used to it and as long as neither his hands nor his face are affected he can pretend like everything is fine.

The lingering effects of the attack on his psyche are more worrisome though. Steve shivers again, tasting mud and sand on his tongue and gets up, trailing to the kitchen for a glass of grape juice and his meds. All in all it's several hours until he manages to fall asleep again, with the sun already peeking around the city edges.

The second time he wakes up its already noon and his phone is chipping. The message is from Tony.

_"I've got your car ready. Pick it up today plz. I need the space for tomorrow."_

Steve grunts into his pillow and punches the mattress as if it had somehow offended his honor. He hates, hates, hates to waste an opportunity to see Tony on a day when all his important parts are as numb as a cardboard box. It's not like his body is not working, just that the nerve endings responsible for sensation go on vacation. Which is kind of the whole point of sex; sensation.

Fuck his life, really.

He reads the message again. Tony sounds busy and there's not even a single note of innuendo in the scarce text. If he really needs Steve's old pile of scraps out of the way Steve can't really bail on him.

He sends a positive reply and sighs again. He should get up, eat something and take his medicine. But really, he won't probably die from staying in bed a little bit longer.

  


It's late evening when he shows up in the shop. Tony's assistant (secretary? door woman?) grins at him sleazily from behind her computer. If Steve could feel his back that look would have made him shiver (and not in a good way).

He spots Tony after the third try. Or better said – spots his legs.

The panel lamps across the floor are all turned on and, parked over the rows of them, there are two more cars in the garage than three days ago. Tony is sprawled on a trolly under one of them, only his lower half peeking out. Steve finds the radio that's blasting rock like it has some sort of personal vendetta against silence and turns the dial down.

"Hey!" Tony rolls from under the car, a scowl on his face that turns into a wide grin the moment he spots Steve. "H _eeee_ y."

"Hey you too." Steve walks towards him, leaning on the side of the black Sedan. The scowl is back on Tony's face as he takes in Steve's appearance, but there's a streak of grease on his forehead that makes Steve want to announce _"Simba-"_ It's kinda cute.

"You know, I'm having trouble figuring out if you look like shit or hot as hell. Some weird mix of the two, maybe."

That earns him a chuckle. In a fit of passive-aggressive mourning for his lack of action in the foreseeable future Steve didn't bother with dressing up for seduction. He just climbed into the first thing he saw forty minutes ago. Namely, an old band shirt that he doesn't remember buying and a pair of summer sweatpants that cling too tightly to his hips but don't cover his ankles. Top it with a pair of flip-flops and he looks like a tourist turned hobo. It's a good thing then that these days he tends to look attractive regardless of how little he cares.

"Not a good day." He confesses, shifting from one foot to another. "And for the record, I'm just here to collect my car. Remember what I told you about parts of my body losing sensation from time to time?"

Tony nods. "No sex then?"

"Sorry." Steve doesn't wince exactly, but it's a near thing. He doesn't feel guilty, it's not like he owes Tony or anything, but saying it out loud brings forward another pang of disappointment. Disappointment too that Tony doesn't press for more. Because he looks good. God, does he look good! If it were any other day Steve would be all over him already.  
Besides, as little as he wanted to come here before the prospect of going back home, being left alone with his mind, is worse even. Maybe that's why he crunches down besides Tony's hips and runs his hand over the squeeze-cast. "Are those bullet holes?"

Tony rolls back and points a wrench at him, arching an eyebrow. "No, they are not and you never saw them."

"Okay." Steve grins, not nearly as concerned as he probably should be. "Can I stay though? I have nothing to do at home and maybe I could help.

Tony shrugs. "You can hand me the dike." He points at a workbench. "The medium one. Blue handle."

Steve doesn't know much about tools, but there's only one, similar to a pair of scissors, that has a blue handle, so he obliges. Tony thanks him with a nod and rolls back under.

The hem of his shirt rolls up, revealing a strip of skin over the waistband of his jeans. Steve stares at it, not really listening to Tony's ramble about how some people exist to make his life more difficult. It looks inviting and Steve is tempted to reach out and touch it, or maybe even lick it. Tony has clearly been working all day, his shirt is covered in mud, grease and sweat. It's probably gross but the manly roughness of it appeals to Steve on some basic, animal level. He wonders if Tony's skin would taste salty or more bitter because of the oil.

He is so engrossed in his temptation that Tony's voice, echoing against tons of metal, startles him. "I can feel you staring, you know. Are you trying to set me on fire with your mind for some reason?"

"Uh, no." Steve hadn't looked properly sheepish since Father Gabriel caught him touching himself in the confession booth more than a decade ago. That doesn't mean he can't feel a little awkward for having been caught. "I'm just... curious."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." Tony says after a long couple of seconds. "I don't know what medical freak-out you've got going on in there, but if you feel like entertaining yourself there are worse ways for me to spend my working evenings than being groped and mauled by a hot blond. In fact, if I ever refuse to be mauled by a hot blond that's probably because I had been replaced by an alien and humanity should prepare its heavy guns for an intergalactic war."

"I'll keep that in mind." Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. And maybe he shouldn't take Tony up on that offer, he knows better by now, but that patch of skin looks entirely too promising.

Eh, What the hell.

Steve settles on the floor besides him and slowly pushes his shirt up to his chest.

  


Tony has a fantastic body. Not in the romanticized sense of it, no. But it's the kind of male body that little Steve Rogers, fifteen years old and just starting to experiment with his sexuality by tugging too much on his morning wood and pushing carrots coated in kitchen oil into his ass, fantasized about.

It's not even a matter of bulk. Steve slept with lot of very muscular guys in the last few years. All of them worked hard in the gym to develop a carefully sculpted frame that Hollywood actors and fitness magazines advertise. At the end he got so fed up with them he swore them off. It's not that he doesn't admire their effort and persistence, it's that for all their muscles they are surprisingly delicate. One of those guys even refused to help Steve to rearrange the furniture in his apartment because he didn't want to "break his form". What good are muscles for if they are just decorative? The worst part was that most of those guys were so incredibly vain, so desperate to show off their curves and shapes that all the conversations with them tended to automatically revert to their gym routines at some point.

Tony is different though. His body is not a product of meticulous weight lifting, timed practice with specialized machines and protein shakes. It's a body of a man that makes a use off it. The body of a man that bends metal with his bare hands for a living. He is more compact than bulky but at the same time strong and rough in a way that a gym flower never is.

As Steve runs his open mouth up from Tony's belt, following the narrow trail of dark hair that curls around his navel and creeps up to his chest he notices how Tony doesn't have a well-defined six pack, similar to a tray of Russian buns fresh out of the oven. The lower part of his belly is smooth and twitches as Steve mouths over it. Up from the dip of his navel his stomach is a map of compact muscles and abrupt dibs that reveal how he usually leans his weight on his right side but twists his frame towards the left more often than not. His waist is not as narrow as Steve's but firm to grasp and his serratus muscles are more defined than his abs in this position. He has scars and burn marks forever embedded in his skin, some of them so small that Steve wouldn't have been able to see them if he wasn't leaning in so close, others, like the one under his second rib, are ragged and prominent. It's an interesting and complicated landscape. It screams of power and resilience and a life far from easy.   
  
Steve hasn't touched a sketchbook in years, therefore the sudden desire he gets to just sit there for hours, trying to recreate the play of skin and shadows on paper surprises even him.

He stays where he is, though, content with kissing, tasting, worshiping every inch of Tony's abdomen; running his fingers over it and digging his nails lightly where he thinks the action would be welcome. Tony isn't unaffected, Steve can see that much. He is half hard already and squirming from time to time, his breathing speeding up when Steve finds a particularly sensitive spot, little gasps escaping his lips as Steve dips his tongue into that tentative navel... There is a small arrangement of gears and cogs tattooed around it. It's so very Tony it's almost laughable.

He is a work of art and Steve can't get enough.

"Allow me to take off your shirt." He whispers, his damp breath rising goosebumps where it dances over the valley of Tony's stomach. He feels expectant in some sort of juvenile way. Steve suddenly realizes that he let that man fuck his ass raw and hurt him twice, degrade him and shove him around like a rag doll upon twenty minutes of meeting him. He trusted Tony to raise him to the heavens and bring him back but he's yet to see him shirtless.

Tony pushes at the underbelly of the car and rolls from under it, the amused look on his face revealing that he's probably thinking exactly the same as Steve. He tosses the shirt aside by himself and settles back on the dolly but doesn't roll as far under the car again, settling for working near the edge of the bumper. The position puts the muscles of his arms on display and if Steve was a woman he would be soaking wet down there just from the sight of them. He _adores_ Tony's arms, they are his best feature (after that sweet cock of his). The combination of steel-hard muscle, soft hair and colorful skin enough to make Steve want to drop on his knees every damn time.

So he runs his fingers over the full length of the tattoo that stretches all over his partner's left arm and halfway through his chest. It covers the skin in a fine layer of faded garnet and gold ink. Steve isn't sure if it's supposed to be a mechanical bird or a dragon, except that it has a tail like plates of armor curling around the elbow and claws digging in the flesh of Tony's bicep. The wings expand like a hundred swords and daggers over his shoulder and a couple on inches down under his collarbone. Steve is familiar with the lower half and he definitively saw the head of it before: fire blue eyes and the sharp dented peak agape under Tony's ear, looking for all the word like getting ready to tear it off, but the full picture is spectacular.

His other side clashes a little with the artistic and detailed dragon. The only things he has there is a band of cogs and gears, similar to the little piece around his navel, an inch over his elbow and a double circle with a geometric composition inside. Steve didn't have much time or opportunity to pay attention to it before but now that he can observe it with patience and intent it looks very much like a rampant eagle; with its head to the side and black shapes forming its tail and wings. In the center of its body the letters XLII are blanked out and Steve realizes it's the roman number 42.

It covers most of his bicep but what's more interesting is the difference between the two tattoos. The dragon is obviously a professional and careful work, done maybe in several sessions by a seasoned artist and treated very carefully. The eagle, on the other hand, looks like a rushed and crude attempt by an amateur. It looks fine from a distance but up close Steve can see the ragged edges of it and the uneven bit at the end of one of the wings. There's a story between this one and Steve makes a mental note to ask about it later.

He circles the eagle with his index finger, curling his hand and dragging his knuckles across Tony's shoulder and collarbones, down to the middle of his chest, and grins as he notices that the compass rose over his heart – dark navy ink glowing in the same electric blue as the dragon's eyes – has its North pointing down instead of up.

"Is that a subtle way of implying that the way to your heart lays across your dick?"

Tony snorts and the motion shifts deliciously the muscles of his abdomen. "I think I was dead drunk when I had this one made so it might as well have been my stomach, since it's where all the alcohol was going."

The strand of dark curls over his sternum is fine and scarce enough that it doesn't distort the image but add some extra depth to it, a protective grid, and they are so soft to the touch Steve can't resist petting and playing with them. He covers the compass rose with his palm and bends down to place a kiss near Tony's left nipple which...

_Oh._

 

Steve almost lets out a squeak of glee. He was so focused on Tony's tattoos that even if his mind registered that there was something weird about his nipples he ignored the input in favor of the stunning art display directly in front of him.

How the hell did he manage not to notice right away that Tony has his nipples pierced?

In his defense; the transparent Plexiglas bars are very discreet, obviously meant for comfort rather than swank. Still, it's a whole new level of sexy and Steve's mouth is suddenly twice as wet as it was two seconds ago. He swallows and lowers his parted lips to tongue on it.

Tony keens, back arching to push himself further into Steve's mouth, a screwdriver clenched tightly in his fist. Steve represses a self-congratulatory smirk and laps at the tender flesh, circling the tip of his tongue around the bump and then rubbing it at the point where the bar penetrates into flesh.

"Holy f..." Tony grunts "If I knew you were going to go all kinky doctor on me I would have worn the golden rings. Or the titanium barbells. I have a pair with little dicks on either end."

"Cute" Steve says and sucks _hard_. This is kind of amazing. Steve is generally the one who rolls on his belly, wiggles his butt and moans as loud as he can during sex, but the feel of Tony, who is always so perfectly collected and in control of his body, panting and squirming under his mouth fills him with a sort of glee usually reserved for winning a trophy or scoring an A+ in a test you didn't study for.

"I found your weak spot." He teases even as he reaches with his hand to pinch on the other nipple.

"Jealous?" Tony grins between irregular intakes of breath.

"Very much so. Mine are never that sensitive. Not even on the good days."

" _Hmm..._ I used to be dead insensitive there. My girlfriend at the time convinced me to pierce them- _oh! Yeah like that, do that again_ \- hmm... and now with the barest of touches... well, you can see it . Comes really in _\- ah-_ handy while jerking off."

Steve grins around the lump in his mouth. The round ends of the bar are sleek against his tongue and he keeps poking them with it as he sucks in again. Half of his body is still unresponsive to outside stimuli but the raging arousal in his gut is ever-present and familiar. Generally he hates getting hard-ons when he can do absolutely nothing to relieve them. It's uncomfortable, embarrassing and a waste. Not to mention that if his sensation comes back shortly after he _can_ feel the blue balls and as much as he likes most of sexually-related pain, that one is an exception.

Today, however, it just doesn't seem important anymore. Steve can't actually remember why he'd been so grim earlier. He is having more fun with this than he had in a very long time. Tony is gorgeous beyond words, a force of human ingenuity and unmovable steel turned into a kitten under his lips and, for once, he doesn't mind one bit not being able to attend to his own needs.

There's power in this; in a natural submissive being able to affect their dominant in that way. They haven't used yet such specific terminology for what they are doing but Steve knows what he is and he is pretty sure of the why too. Don't get him wrong, he likes being left at the mercy of his partners, feeling used and helpless, but what he hates is being worthless to them. A lover too preoccupied with his own delusion of superiority to let any cracks in the mask show, is one you can't trust with your security. Mostly because if you are not special enough to them they won't care about whether you are human underneath your submission or an actual toy they can treat like shit, discard and throw on the street after an orgasm or two, without bothering to mend what they had damaged. Seeing Tony completely wrecked like this, _being allowed_ _by Tony_ to bring him to this state and push even further... well, it's a privilege and a colossal concession on Tony's part.

And isn't that a dangerous territory for his mind to wander into after only two fucks? He pushes it aside, set for a later re-evaluation with the appropriate date for around never. This is not a moment for getting distracted because Tony is speaking again and Steve really wants to listen.

"... do not approve of that teasing and not delivering thing you are planning here."

"Who says I cannot deliver?" Steve gins and maneuvers himself until he is kneeling between Tony's feet. He came here determined _not_ to succumb to this but all that resolve flew out the window the moment he took one look at Tony's body. "May I take off your pants?"

Tony nods and Steve unbuckles his belt, dragging both his jeans and his underwear down. He grins at the cheerful picture of Tony's erect cock demanding attention and places a tender kiss to the glistering top before continuing to remove his pants.

Then, as soon as he is past the knees, he has a moment of panic because _Tony's hurt!_... no. His instant fear is subsided the next second as he realizes it's another tattoo. Two, in fact, but twins. On each one of his calves his skin looks like it's being ripped off. The angry, bloody red at the edges of the uneven shreds contrasting with the dark, silver gleam of fake metal. A myriad of carefully arranged wires and minuscule bars and springs, curled planes and straight tubes held together by diminutive screw-heads and clasps, all framed by bold, polished plaques.

"I knew you had to be a robot underneath!"

Tony laughs at that. A deep, hot sound that sends a wave of satisfaction through Steve's bones.

The tattoo covers every millimeter of his calves, ankles and, once Steve removes the ratty sneakers, part of his feet. The merger with the skin there is not ragged and shredded but rather carefully delineated, as if cut with a surgical knife.

"Jesus, did they hurt?"

"Like a bitch." Tony confesses with a snarl. "But less than the compass rose or the one on my neck."

"They are beautiful. Do you have any more?"

Tony lifts his head, looking down at him with half lidded eyes, considering. "Yes. On my back. But I can't exactly roll over right now, can I?" He grins and gestures at his hard cock. Certainly, the poor thing doesn't deserve a meeting with the cold surface of the trolly. Steve returns the grin and licks his lips. He has better plans for it, so he leans forward, shifting his knees wider and his elbows so they are straddling Tony's waist. Then he flicks his thumbs over the sensitive bumps of Tony's nipples, who just sighs contentedly and closes his eyes.

Steve takes a moment to appreciate his beauty, relaxed and laid back like this, long eyelashes casting shadows over sharp cheekbones... But just a moment, before he dives back down the expanse of Tony's belly and takes the tip of his cock into his mouth. He sucks at it lightly, running his tongue in slow circles around the slit. He is in the mood for teasing now so he lets go of it and nuzzles lower, peppering the shaft with delicate kisses and laps at the skin between Tony's cock and balls.

"How do you smell of motor oil even down here?" He asks, amused. Tony smells musky and how any normal crotch should smell but there's that distinctive pang of synthetic bitterness, barely distinguishable and embedded under his skin.

"I'm sure that's my natural smell by now... quit playing around and get to work, will you?"

Steve congratulates himself internally. Tony is getting impatient, heh? Good. He pinches one nipple in reprimand and continues to tongue at the length of he cock under his lips, gentle caresses and soft pressure alternating with insistent sucking just at the head, never taking it completely in his mouth, never giving Tony what he's craving, just barely enough to drive any man to the verge of insanity.

"Not gathering any brownie points here..."Tony hisses as Steve blows air into the slit and follows it with the tip of his tongue. However, the bead of precome that greets him speaks otherwise.

Steve rolls his nipples between two fingers of each hand and laps and the warm liquid. "Are you sure? From where I am it looks like I'm doing everything exactly how you want it." It's a tacky opening and he knows it, but doesn't give a damn either because Tony goes with it anyway, fisting his hand in Steve's hair and tugging sharply, bringing his head up to look him in the eyes. And he looks hungry too, focused on Steve with his pupils blown wide and his forehead glistering with sweat.

"You have no idea then of how I want it."

"Then show me" Steve whispers, saliva pooling in his mouth in portent of what's to come. " _Make me_ do it the way you want it."

"If you want me to stop..."

"I'll grab your wrist. Only if I grab your wrist... now c'mon, I know you are dying for it."

"You are so enthusiastic about cock it's almost embarrassing. " He says and Steve rolls his eyes. Well, sue him! He loves dicks, not a big deal. Some people are addicted to drugs or alcohol. His whoring is a perfectly healthy hobby in comparison.

He says as much and that earns him a snort and a tug on his hair, but not a refutation.

Finally ( _finally!_ )Tony shifts his grip and quits messing around, bringing Steve's head down on his cock hard and deep with the first thrust. They both moan and Steve does his best to suck eagerly, hollowing his cheeks before Tony tugs back up, his grip a painful presence pulling at Steve's scalp, and down again, then again. He rams into Steve's welcoming mouth, alternating between swallow, fast penetrations and deeper, heavier ones, rolling his hips with a graceful laxity.

Steve is humming and sighing wantonly under his hand all the way through it, utterly pliant right until Tony pushes his cock far too deep and he gags on it. The sudden jolt of helplessness, makes Steve's already lust-clouded mind spin. He grasps into Tony's hips and inhales deeply when he is allowed air. Then relaxes the muscles of his throat and nods the best way he can manage, considering how he has little to no movement, impaled and held in place with an iron grip.

Tony catches the movement though, because the next thrust is fast and final. _Fuck!_ It's so deep that Steve's air supply is completely cut off as Tony's cock shoves into his throat, rasping at the tender walls and filling him until Steve's nose is buried in the mat of dark curls. They tickle his skin in a way that's almost comically innocent in comparison of how utterly desecrated he feels. Because Tony is not small by any means and to be forced to take all of him, split open and torn apart, is like the dirtiest of his fantasies come true. His first instinct is to moan but he can't until Tony tugs at his hair to bring his head up and even then it sounds more like a whimper than a moan. It doesn't matter though, because Tony is fucking his throat now, deep, fast thrusts, in and out, both by forcing his head down and rolling his hips upwards. It's a frantic dance and all Steve can do is concentrate on catching the little breath he can and listen to the raspy grunting from Tony and the wet, obscene noises of his cock sliding into Steve.

The burning fire of arousal is heavy as lead in the pit of his belly, in his veins and in the back of his head. He knows he is hard and knows too that there's no use in touching himself, not when his only relief comes from his very torment. It's frustrating and cruel and the fact that Tony knows it and is still using him for his own pleasure makes him feel like a toy, like a conveniently available hole for Tony to jerk off in and nothing more. The idea is driving him mad, making everything worse and a thousand times better, hotter. He loves this with his every fiber and Tony rams into his mouth, unconcerned and lost in pleasure as the strands of emotion and desire tangle and tear in Steve's chest. He is finding it harder and harder to breathe and fingers clenching at the meat and bone of Tony's hips in a way that must be painful, but Tony looks far from bothered, he growls and twists his wrists, the grip his hand in Steve's hair so demanding it feels like he's gonna tear it out and Steve wails, tears running down his face, mixing with saliva and precome on his jaw and chin. Each and every one of his senses that bothered to show up for work today is on complete overdrive, sharp and at the verge of collapse.

Tony jerks, his whole body tensing and buries himself deep inside of Steve. His cock quivering and pumping his seed, hot and heavy and Steve accepts it, swallows every last drop, shaking and panting as he chokes but still works his abused throat, Tony's come burning against the irritated walls there. Steve isn't sure which one of them is moaning but he suspects it's Tony because he is too busy trying to work his lungs without coughing. But Tony's hand is still in his hair and as it flexes Steve feels the messy tangle of arousal under his skin unravel, each feeling, sensation and emotion flowing freely from his chest towards the end of his fingertips, fading away and lingering at the same time.

 

 

He feels utterly boneless, laying on the dirty workshop floor with his cheek leaning on Tony's hip as the fingers in his hair rub tenderly at the sore spots in his scalp. He is mildly aware of Tony shifting after a while, maybe a minute maybe an hour, he honestly has no idea. He is definitively aware of the telltale snap of a picture being taken and the gentle arms repositioning him on the floor, head gently laid on an improvised cushion of Tony's pants and shirt. They are soft and smell like him, like sweat and oil and Steve twists his neck to inhale it, curls on himself and the ground is cool and soothing against his feverish skin.

Tony is back then, even though Steve doesn't remember him going away, and tilts his head gently. Steve smiles blissfully at the camera, knowing full well how his current state is going to look like on screen and almost eager to see it. He doesn't move from where it is though, Tony's hands feel wonderful on his forehead and running a damp cloth over his face, cleaning the excess of saliva, tears and cum there. Steve is almost mournful for it.

"You are so filthy." Tony whispers, bone-deep satisfaction clear in every note. "It's a beautiful look on you."

Steve nuzzles into his palm. "Then why are you cleaning me?"

"I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"Mmm... nope." Steve grins. "No gentleman-ness allowed while one or both of us are naked. It's a new rule."

"I like that rule." Tony smiles too, abandoning the cloth and bending down to kiss Steve's forehead. The touch surprisingly intimate and completely at odds with his earlier actions. "You came."

Steve blinks, looking down at himself. True, his sweats are not tented anymore and there's a big, wet spot over his groin. Well, it's been years since he managed to climax from psychological arousal alone, not to mention while his nerve endings are completely numb over and around the area.

"I did, didn't I?"

"I wondered if you would."

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes in the face of Tony's smugness. "Congratulations on your achievement. I would give you a 'one of a kind' trophy but I think you already got your compensation."

"You've got the cheekiest afterglow I've ever witnessed." Tony laughs and it's good. Everything is good, slow and bright and pleasant.

"Show me your back?"

"There isn't much there, really."

"Oh, c'mon. Please?" He bats his eyelashes for full effect and it's Tony's turn to roll his eyes. But the corner of his lips is twitching upwards and he turns around slowly, sitting by Steve's side. "Happy now?"

"Very." Steve mumbles, distractedly, as he traces with his fingers the other wing of the dragon. It stretches all the way across his shoulder blade in a perfect completion of the picture, not that Steve expected any less. His other shoulder blade is bare, but between them rests a small inverted triangle, barely two inches wide, filled with pink, yellow and blue fringes.

Steve touches it, curiously "The pansexual flag, right?"

Tony shrugs and the movement shifts the muscles of his back in a way that makes Steve want to bite and lick at them.

So he does.

“Feisty.” Tony mocks his antics but doesn't pull away, even as Steve drags his teeth over the triangle and sucks on the patch of skin between his shoulder blades.

"Is that all?" Steve asks, pulling away and licking his lips.

"Look lower."

"..."

"Yup."

"Oh my god! You've got a tramp stamp!"

"It is not!"

“Yes it is!” It totally is a tramp stamp. It's conveniently situated in the middle of Tony's lower back, on top of his finely, _deliciously_ , looking ass crack. The only thing that would made it more obvious it's if it was a butterfly or some native pattern. Unfortunately it isn't. Still a tramp stamp, though.

The tattoo itself is not very big, just the perfect size for a tramp stamp. The composition is of the classical pirate logo of the skull and the crossbones, except that instead on bones it's a wrench and a screwdriver crossed under the face of a robot.

"Well, nobody can accuse you of not doing what you love for life." Every single piece of Tony's body art, except the pan flag and the rampant eagle, are a tribute to some sort of mechanics. The guy must have been the most enthusiastic hot wheels collector ever as a child.

"Actually, I wanted to make robots when I was a kid." Tony confesses, partially catching on Steve's train of thought. He turns around, laying besides Steve, head supported on his fist. "And prostheses. Or something similar. Made up this character at the age of five; a guy that fought evil in a robotic armor. I guess I never grew out of it completely, even when life decided that a fancy engineering college was out of reach for me. The robo-head on the small of my back is the mask design for said armor, actually."

"He sounds cool." Steve smiles.

"He helped me when I needed it, even if he was a product of my imagination."

"One day you've gotta tell me that story."

"One day" Tony smiles and leans forward, kissing Steve's lips "One day, maybe."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found [This picture of the MkII armor](http://www.collectiondx.com/gallery2/gallery/d/637342-3/IronManMkII_41.jpg) without the outer plating and thought about how symbolically cool it would look tattooed on Tony's legs.  
> Also I probably shouldn't have made so many Iron Man references but whatever. I loved imagining and writing them.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come find me on Tumblr <3](http://fakesheep-luna.tumblr.com)


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